


Sam Claims His Place

by Freedoms_Champion



Series: Transformations AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hell, It's not a nice place, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam makes a bad choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedoms_Champion/pseuds/Freedoms_Champion
Summary: Post season 3. Dean is dead and Sam can't bring him back. Late one night, after too much cheap booze, a plan forms in his mind. There's a way he can get his brother back, but not for him. Just to have Dean alive again is good enough for Sam, even if it means he'll lose every bit of his humanity.
Series: Transformations AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764439
Kudos: 20





	Sam Claims His Place

**Author's Note:**

> This set of stories was inspired by my earlier story True Sight. I really wanted to work with Winchesters who reflected the power they wielded.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

The demons wouldn’t deal.

Sam stumbled forward, certain of only one thing in his life. Dean was gone and the demons wouldn’t deal to bring him back. After six failed summons and a bottle of cheap whiskey, Sam had come to a conclusion. If the demons wouldn’t bring Dean back, he’d have to do it himself.

Of course, that was the moment he needed Dean the most: to hit him and keep him from making such a stupid decision. Dean wasn’t there and Sam needed him to be alive, even if what he had to do meant that he wouldn’t be around Dean anymore.

So, he forced the latest demon to take him to Hell. Distantly, he was a little disappointed when there weren’t any handbaskets involved, but that was a drunken thought he had to resist, or he’d break down entirely. Hell was a place of shadows, broken black rocks, and screams. Sam gripped Ruby’s knife and kept walking.

The smoke made his eyes burn and his lungs ache. Even the gravity of the place seemed different, pulling at him and making his movements slower. Or maybe it was how drunk he was. Sam knew he was going to get himself killed, but the thought that one of those screaming people was Dean propelled him forward, through any demons that tried to stop him. There weren’t many. Mostly, the demons caught sight of him and stood back. Their black eyes tracked him, and anticipation sharpened their features.

When Sam passed, the demons closed ranks behind and followed him.

He reached the throne of Hell. The cavern gaped around it, thick with shadows that prevented Sam from seeing any threats that might lurk to defend the power of this place. A crack in the floor caught his foot and sent him down. Sam landed heavily on his knees, scraping both of them through his worn-out jeans. Well, a little more blood wouldn’t hurt Hell.

Sam knelt at the base of the throne for a moment, catching his breath and reminding himself that he was going to go through with this. Dean needed him and no one else was going to do what needed to be done. Besides, Yellow-Eyes had intended this all along.

To save Dean, Sam had to claim the destiny the demons had chosen for him.

He lurched to his feet and gripped one arm of the throne.

“Listen up, you sons of bitches,” he said hoarsely. He sensed a vibration rippling through Hell the moment his fingers touched the black stone and knew his voice could be heard in every corner.

“I’m Sam Winchester and I’m here for my brother. Let me take him and I won’t stay. You can do what you want, and I won’t have power to stop you. Hand over Dean’s soul or I will claim this throne. Do any of you want me ruling here?”

A low hiss went through the crowd of demons he’d collected. Sam turned without releasing his grip and met the blank white eyes of the little girl standing before the throne.

“I rule in Hell now, Sam,” Lilith said. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been in Ruby’s body and sounded like any other demon in a human, normal. Here in Hell, her voice rasped oddly, like scales over gravel.

“Give me Dean and it’ll stay that way,” Sam replied, gripping the knife a little harder. Maybe it was his contact with the throne or his power from Yellow-Eyes’ blood, but he could sense the demons in the crowd. The vicious expectation in them made him think they would be baring fangs if they had any.

Lilith did bare her teeth, though the teeth of a ten-year-old weren’t very frightening.

“This isn’t part of the plan! Leave here, Sam Winchester. We’ll be keeping Dean.”

Sam felt a weight settle on him. Lilith’s power wouldn’t work on him. If she wanted him out, she would have to get demons to drag him out and he would kill them with the knife. She couldn’t overpower him in the body she’d chosen. Besides, he’d come so far and failed to find another way.

Sam sat on the throne. A tremor rocked Hell, knocking the demons off their feet. Lilith screamed in fury until Sam raised his hand and choked her voice.

“Enough! You drove me to this,” he told her harshly. “I would have taken Dean and left. Now, go back where you came from.”

If he’d stopped to think about it, Sam might not have been able to do it. In his frustration, he simply found Lilith’s place deep in Hell and returned her there. A presence brushed against his mind as he did it and it felt obscenely like a fatherly smile. Sam shied away and returned to himself to find the demons bowing before him.

“Let every demon return to Hell so that I may determine their duties,” he said, at a loss for anything else to do with them. At least that would keep them from hurting people until he understood the consequences of his actions.

Sam stood and discovered he had changed without noticing. Echoes of pain shot through him, along with the sense that the throne had shielded him from it. Rather than his jeans, flannel, and brown jacket, he wore a midnight black, knee-length kilt, cinched at the waist with a wide belt. Apart from that, he wore nothing but a thick fur cloak.

Sam dropped back into the throne. His lower legs had grown shaggy brown fur and cloven hooves as black as his kilt. His head felt heavy and he encountered ridged horns when he reached up. He struggled to stay calm while understanding washed through him.

Hell’s throne had never been held by a human before. Puzzled, it had given him the power of Hell’s King and transformed him to reflect his status. The throne couldn’t make him a demon unless Sam died while serving as King.

He decided not to die any time soon. Becoming a demon would destroy him much faster than anything else.

Sam pressed his hands against his face and discovered he had black talons instead of fingernails when the sharp tips pricked his skin. All of the demons had vanished, so he didn’t bother to hide the shiver that went over him.

Sam couldn’t tell if he was human anymore. 

He’d better accomplish what he’d come for before the demons came back and started demanding orders. Sam stood and took a few careful steps. His ankles no longer worked the way he was used to, and it would be some time before he could walk normally, but he figured it out while homing in on Dean.

A demon stood beside his brother’s soul, speaking quietly while toying with a nasty spiked blade. Blood coated the floor, corresponding with the cuts and punctures all over Dean’s body. Sam’s stomach twisted, imagining all the torture Dean must have faced in the weeks it had taken him to reach the bottom of despair.

“Alastair! That’s enough,” he commanded. The demon’s name simply came to mind, as if it had been written on him.

Slowly, Alastair turned to him. Sam didn’t flinch, though he could sense how old and evil he was. He refused to be cowed by any demon, especially one drenched in Dean’s blood.

“As you say,” Alastair finally replied and brushed past Sam.

“Dean! Oh, God,” Sam breathed, rushing to his brother’s side. Dean’s head lolled to the side, though his eyes were open. He was clearly barely clinging to consciousness.

Sam shed his cloak and draped it around Dean, covering his nakedness.

“I’m getting you out,” he promised and lifted Dean into his arms. The weight made walking on his new hooves harder, but Sam refused to let anything stop him from doing what he’d come to do. He left Hell behind and made his way to where he’d buried Dean. The moment they emerged on Earth, Dean’s soul wavered in his arms and flickered between Dean’s normal appearance and a shapeless form of light.

Sam let his new power work instinctively, holding Dean’s soul together and pulling his coffin to the surface. His body had started breaking down, but Sam placed a hand on Dean’s forehead and reversed it without thinking. He shoved the shock to the back of his mind. He’d deal with it later. The only thing that mattered now was that he could act to help Dean.

Carefully, he poured his brother’s damaged soul back into his body. He could bring Dean back to life, but there was nothing he could do about the injuries Alastair and the other demons had inflicted. Bobby would have to help Dean get better.

Sam leaned his head on Dean’s chest and listened as his heart started beating again. Tears filled his eyes as Sam realized the enormity of what he had done. Dean was alive, but Sam was King of Hell. His brother would call him a monster, would hate him for going so far from his humanity. Worst case, Dean would try to kill him. Sam had saved Dean, but there was nothing further in store for them.

Sam stood and retrieved his cloak. He would mourn his loss, there was no avoiding it. However, Dean was alive. He would have a future unmarred by Yellow-Eyes’ and Lilith’s plans. Sam had seen to that.

He wasn’t sure when he would grasp the end of his sacrifice, but Sam stared down at his brother and noted the color coming back to his face.

“This is worth it,” he said. The words didn’t shake the foundations of Hell, but they helped Sam leave before Dean woke up.

Sam had work to do.


End file.
